


"Got no strings on me."

by emo_and_confused



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Denial, Hopeful Ending, Mild Hurt/Comfort, So Tommy's dead, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit Needs a Break (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Traumatized Toby Smith | Tubbo, Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, and then starts shit, as he should, as in.. only a little comfort, but he gets revived, but i swear there is some, but that's not the main point of this, like dead dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emo_and_confused/pseuds/emo_and_confused
Summary: "I've got no stringsTo hold me downTo make me fretOr make me frownI had stringsBut now I'm freeThere are no strings on me"Tommy is dead, but he doesn't go to the Afterlife right away. He watches the server; he watches the member's reactions to his death. He sees the strings, but his are different. Tommy is different.(Based on the fanart that has Dream controlling the SMP members by strings like a puppet master.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, Jschlatt & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mexican Dream & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 11
Kudos: 209





	"Got no strings on me."

**Author's Note:**

> "I've got no strings  
> To hold me down  
> To make me fret  
> Or make me frown  
> I had strings  
> But now I'm free  
> There are no strings on me"
> 
> Tommy is dead, but he doesn't go to the Afterlife right away. He watches the server; he watches the member's reactions to his death. He sees the strings, but his are different. Tommy is different. 
> 
> (Based on the fanart that has Dream controlling the SMP members by strings like a puppet master.)

_ "What am I without you?"_ Tommy had asked when they were fighting Dream. When Dream was winning, when Tubbo was so close to death. Tubbo had responded with, _"Yourself."_

Now, as Tubbo stares at the death message, he feel numb.  ** [Tommyinnit was slain by Dream]** .

Is this denial? No. It’s not denial. It’s not denial, because Tommy isn’t dead. Tubbo had thought he was dead when he saw the pillar at Logstedshire, but Tommy wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead then, and he’s not dead now. It’s not denial if there’s nothing to be in denial about.

Ranboo says they should go talk to Sam. Tubbo agrees, because that sounds like a smart thing to do. 

Sam says he couldn’t make it in time. Sam says Tommy is dead. Sam says Dream beat Tommy to death.

Sam must be wrong. 

_ “ What am I without you?" _ Tommy had asked. _“_ _ Yourself _ _,”_ Tubbo had answered. 

Tubbo doesn’t know if that’s true. If the roles were reversed, and Tommy had responded with “yourself,” if he had asked the question, Tubbo’s not sure if he would’ve believed it. 

Would Tubbo still be himself if Tommy was gone?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. And, he supposes, he doesn’t have to know. 

Because Tommy isn’t dead.

* * *

Tommy stared, watching his best friend drown in his own lack of acknowledgement. It’s been a week since his death, and he’s been watching. He isn’t exactly in the place where Wilbur resides, but he’s not visible to anyone else. He’s alone right now, and he can’t bring himself to care.

He’ll get to Wilbur, he knows he will. But right now, he’s got to watch over his best friend, even if his best friend can’t see him.

Tubbo hasn’t processed Tommy’s death. And Tommy watched as the denial devoured him. How he laughed at any mention of death, and outright avoided the topic of grief. “Tommy’s not dead,” he’d insist. “If this is denial, then I’m staying,” he’d joke. It hurt Tommy. Not because his best friend was ignoring his death, but because he knew this was Tubbo’s way of coping with things he couldn’t handle.

Tommy watched as Ranboo planted flowers around his house. Ranboo, who played along with Tubbo’s denial in attempt to lessen the overwhelming dread he knew Tubbo was about to experience. Tommy is grateful for Ranboo.

Tommy watched as Jack went through a celebration, and then a breakdown. He knew Jack was trying to kill him, but seeing the joy he first felt when learning of his death hurt. Seeing him lost and alone afterwards didn’t help; Tommy didn’t like seeing Jack upset.

He watched Bad and Ant celebrate. He watched Puffy mourn and get angry for him. He watched Sam become dejected and broken. He watched Quackity throw himself into his work to avoid the grief. He watched as they all kept the news from Sam Nook. 

He didn’t see how Philza or Techno reacted. He didn’t want to see their reactions.

Tommy didn’t realize how much of an impact he made on the server. Puffy and Jack said he was tied to everything, but he didn’t see it. He had only been trying to live his life, to survive, and everyone had tried to push him into a role. To some, he was the hero. To others, he was the villain.

He saw so many reactions to his death.So many reactions, both good and bad, but none as heartbreaking as Tubbo’s denial. Tubbo, the logical one, the one who strategizes, the one who relies on facts. His best friend, so deep in denial in effort to postpone the grief.

So when Tubbo broke down a week after his death, Tommy couldn’t help but kneel down in the grass with him. Tubbo had collapsed next to the bench, holding himself as he sobs. Tommy sat next to him, his non-necessary breathing stuttering. He wasn’t a ghost, but he wasn’t alive. He just.. wasn’t.

Tubbo let out a scream, raw and broken, and so full of pain that Tommy couldn’t help but scream as well in response. “He can’t be dead,” Tubbo choked through sobs and yells. “He can’t, he can’t,  _he can’t_.” Tubbo’s fists hit the ground and Tommy watched in despair.

Tommy wrapped his incorporeal arms around the boy, and cried. Tommy cried for his best friend, for the grief he was in and for the denial he just broke out of. Tommy cried for himself, for the pain of getting beaten to death by his abuser and for the lost chance of getting to grow up properly.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” Tommy cried. He could feel the tears leaving his eyes, but no liquid came out. He was dead, he didn’t have a body, he didn’t have tear ducts. “Fuck,  _it wasn’t supposed to happen_.”

Tubbo drew his arms up, and gripped his own shoulders with his hands. Tommy startled slightly, as Tubbo’s hands went to rest right on top of his. Tommy cried harder, knowing Tubbo couldn’t see him.

“Tommy, I am so sorry,” Tubbo whispered, staring at the ground while hosing himself.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” Tommy responded, equally as quiet, staring at the sky while holding his best friend.

It was silent; Tubbo could only hear his labored breathing and Tommy could only hear his and his best friend’s receding sobs.

Tommy felt a tug on his arm, and looked down. A red string was wrapped around his bicep. He was certain that it had not been there before. He looked up, and saw more strings coming from the sky, intertwined and webbed. They were green. Tubbo had a few green strings attached to him. Tommy could see more server members with strings attached. 

He was the only one without green. 

The string tugged harder, and he yanked it back. He wanted to stay with Tubbo. Fuck any afterlife that was calling him.

The string pulled again, and this time he couldn’t resist. He was propelled backward, and his vision went dark. 

He heard voices. 

_ Echoes. His name. Laughing. _

_ “Oh, look! He’s here!” _

_ “Tommy?” _

Why did they sound familiar? 

Tommy’s eyes opened, and he looked around. It wasn’t a void, but it wasn’t exactly anywhere. He was nowhere, but somewhere. There was nothing, but things all around. This place confused him. It was too dark, and yet too bright. Was this the afterlife?

“Ayeee, man!” 

Tommy turned and saw three men staring at him. The three men from the server that had all died and lost their three lives. He supposes he’s one of them now.

Schlatt, Wilbur, and Mexican Dream. What a trio they make.

Tommy stated at Wilbur, keeping eye contact. _“_ _ See you soon, Wilbur _ _,”_ he remembers saying. He doesn’t think he meant like this. 

Dying made Tommy different, even if he had done it twice before. It’s only been a week since he lost his third life, and only a minute in the afterlife, and he feels different. Not only in a physical sense, but in a mental sense. Some things just make sense now, and other things make less sense than before.

Wilbur and Schlatt have black strings tied around their wrists. Mexican Dream has no strings anywhere. 

Tommy doesn’t run to hug Wilbur, like he might’ve a week ago. Death changed him, and he doesn’t exactly know how. Wilbur stares at him like he doesn’t know what to expect, and Tommy can’t blame him. 

Tommy turns to Schlatt. “The.. the revive book. Is it real?” And that’s not the question he wanted to ask, it’s not something he wanted to bring up, but he does it anyway, and he goes with it.

Schlatt doesn’t look surprised, and Tommy doesn’t know what to make of that. “Yeah, kid. It is. A business deal that ended up pretty badly, huh? Green bastard didn’t revive me, so giving him the book was pretty damn useless.”

Tommy doesn’t have a response. Dream wasn’t lying then. He feels a tug on the red string around his arm, and looks at it. He’ll deal with it later.

“Why don’t you have any strings?” 

Mexican Dream tilts his head, and adjusts his mask. Tommy hates the mask. It might have color on it, but it’s still similar to Dream. Tommy’s a little surprised M.D. wasn’t an exile-induced hallucination, but weirder things have happened.

“Not too sure, man. Something about a glitch, I think. Wasn’t supposed to be there, y’know? ‘S what XD said.”

That doesn’t answer too many questions, and certainly raises some, but Tommy thinks he understands. Mexican Dream was a glitch. He wasn’t supposed to be on the server, and so he wasn’t tied to the server. Tommy heard Dream rambling to himself about XD at night, in the cell, when he thought Tommy was asleep. XD, the god, the protector, the savior. Dream, the god, the admin, the controller. 

Tommy looks at Wilbur. He sees Wilbur smile, as if he knew something. There’s pride in his eyes. Tommy wants to yell, to scream. Tommy wants to bury himself in anger, to curse them all out. But Tommy is different. 

Another tug on the red string. 

“What’s so funny, bitch,” Tommy says when Wilbur lets out a quiet laugh, and he doesn’t snap. He says it calmly, if a bit rudely, and he genuinely wants to know the answer.

“You’ve changed.”

“Haven’t we all.”

The brothers stare at each other. Schlatt rolls his eyes, and M.D. leans over and whispers, “are they having a moment?”

Tommy ignores them, and Wilbur seems to be doing the same. 

Tommy wants to hug his brother so badly. Wilbur notices, and gently opens his arms. An invitation. 

Tommy has to stop himself from knocking himself into Wilbur— from throwing himself at his brother— and instead slowly walks over and closes the few feet of distance between them. He settles himself in Wilbur’s arms, and his brother embraces him. Tommy melts into the hold. The red string squeezes his arm; he ignores it.

_ “Wilbur _ _,”_ Tommy doesn’t whine, he doesn’t. He only draws out the name, and his voice totally doesn’t crack. Wilbur’s hold on him tightens.

“You don’t have have the ties,” Wilbur says, and he sounds so goddamn proud of him that Tommy starts crying. He missed Wilbur so bad, and it’s all just hitting him now.

“You don’t have the ties, Toms. I knew you wouldn’t have the ties.”

Tommy assumes he means the strings. The thin red rope around his upper arm and the green ones attached to everyone living and the black ones attached to Wilbur and Schlatt. 

“The strings? I have one, though.”

Wilbur shakes his head. “No, you don’t. Yours is red, not green or black. The dead get the black ones after they have the green ones. The green ones are for the living. But yours is red. And it’s always been red. I was worried it’d turn black, but it didn’t.”

Tommy is different. He understands a lot more now than he did a week ago, but he just can’t make sense of Wilbur’s rambling. He steps back from Wilbur's hold.

“What he means, is that your ties aren’t like the rest of us. Yours only holds your life line, not control,” Schlatt explains.

“Dream can’t control you.”

Tommy’s head whips to Wilbur, his wide eyes meeting his brother’s. “What?”

“Dream can’t control you, Tommy. I knew he couldn’t.” And wow, does Wilbur sound so damn proud.

Mexican Dream might be a glitch, but Tommy was different too. He wasn’t a glitch, he was supposed to be there, but he had control. Tommy understands now. The strings, the ties, it all connects to Dream. The black stings are connected to the controllable dead, able to bring them back to life. The green strings are connected to the controllable living, able to manipulate them in ways that shouldn’t be so easy.

Tommy, though. Tommy had a red string. A string that made him.. him. A string that made him hard to control, that made it hard for Dream to manipulate him. And even in the end, he broke free of the manipulation; despite being left with the trauma, he worked up to the point that he could acknowledge the manipulation. 

Dream couldn’t control him as easily as he could everyone else. That’s why Dream was so against him. That’s why Tommy was one of the only people to consistently go against him.

Everyone else had green strings, while he had red.

Another tug on his bicep caused him to lurch forward. He stuck his arms out, preparing to catch himself on impact, but M.D. caught him before he fell.

Wilbur looked at him, his smile dimmed and eyes sympathetic. Schlatt looked understanding. Tommy had never seen such a look on his face. 

“Dream’s trying to revive you,” the business man said, and Tommy doesn’t doubt him. His arm burns.

He looks up to where Wilbur is staring at him. He can’t say he’s not panicked. He’s not ready to be resurrected. He hasn’t really processed his own death. 

“It’ll be okay, Tommy,” Wilbur says, and he gathers the blonde in his arms again. “It’ll be okay. I’m so proud of you. You’ve done great, and you’ll do great again.” 

Tommy hides his face in Wilbur’s chest.

“When you get back, you won’t see the ties,” Schlatt says. Tommy doesn’t question it. He doesn’t question how Schlatt knows so much about revival. He gave the book to Dream; he knows more than he lets on, and Tommy will take all the knowledge he can get. “Dream won’t be able to control you, but he’ll be able to manipulate the others.”

“You have to cut the ties, man,” Mexican Dream says, and Tommy has never see him so serious, even if the smile is audible in his voice.

'Cut the ties', huh? Tommy's not sure how, if he can't see them. He'll figure it out. 

Tommy’s going to be pushed into the hero role again, isn’t he? For some reason, he can’t find it in himself to be upset about it.

“It’ll be okay, Tommy. It wasn’t your time anyways.”

_ “It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy.” “It’s never my time to die.” _

“I’ll be waiting, Tommy, for when you’re ready. I’m proud of you.”

Tommy feels another tug on his arm, and he lets go of Wilbur. He’s yanked back, and it’s different this time. He slams his eyes closed, and refuses to think about all that he didn’t say. He wanted to yell at Wilbur, to sing with Wilbur, and rant to Wilbur. He want to thank him, he wanted to be apologized to. He wanted to tell him that he loved him.

Tommy wakes up on the ground, and there are so many people around him. He can no longer see the ties. He stands up, and his hearing isn’t quite back yet, but he his vision is.

He locks eyes with Dream, and smiles bitterly.

_ “Got no strings on me, bitch.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Advice? Critique? Validation?
> 
> Drink water, or something. Go be healthy,,,,
> 
> Tumblr: emo-and-confused


End file.
